


If Only...

by MinaMauveine



Category: Los Hombres de Paco
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaMauveine/pseuds/MinaMauveine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you cope when your entire reason for living is ripped from your arms? Pepsi Pepa/Silvia Silvia/Pepa</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only...

Title: There for a moment.

Author: Mina Robins

Fandom: Los hombres de Paco

Pairing: Pepsi. Warning Angst.

Rating: G

….

Paco smiled at me and gently shoved a cup of lukewarm coffee into my hand.

"Sis…" he fidgeted awkwardly in the passenger seat. "You're still on… well… maybe finish your leave first… you know," a moment, then Paco's eyes light up, "when we just got married, me and Lola would get into huge fights over everything, she'll storm off to Silvia's…"

His voice breaks over the name of my deceased spouse. I refuse to shift my eyes from what was becoming a very mundane and empty mission, choosing instead to remain silent.

"Pepa, really. You should be at home… It's only been, a … well it's been just a week."

I use my thumb to caress my two gold bands. Silvia's ring is sitting on top of mine. I don't want them to be apart from one another.

I can't go home.

There is no home to go back to. Home is… was Silvia.

And now.

And now… I wipe furiously at my gathering tears. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I slam my hands into the dashboard of the car causing my brother to jump.

"Sis."

I finally turn and look at my sibling. He's all anxious with worried. He lifts his hand and tugs at his tie and collar. The death of so many of our squad means a gaping void in our family.

Rita's wonderful smile hasn't appeared since his death.

As for Enrique and Nelson, I find myself waiting for their witty remarks at our meetings. But now our office meetings are solemn, everyone still startled by our colleges' deaths. Their voices are sorely missed.

"I'm fine." My voice is void of any emotion.

"No, Pepa." He moved to place a hand on my shoulder but he sees me flinch, it's enough to get him to retract his limb. "You're not fine, you're… you are… you are taking unnecessary risks, not thinking at all. You were bordering on insanity during that last mission."

It's not the first time I've gone a little crazy on a stake out. Silvia enjoyed it in the end. I can still recall that stupid boy's ass sticking out the car window. My lip's quirk.

I can see her so clearly in my mind's eye. She's bored and balancing a clipboard on her knees. Her lips plump and lid of the pen being held between her teeth. Her eyes sparkling as she meets mine. She's so beautiful it hurts.

"I'm fine." I repeat with conviction comparable to a petulant child.

….

Nothing will ever be fine again. I can't even go into our apartment without feeling like I should drink myself into a stupor. I open the door expecting to see Silvia's keys and phone on the counter top.

Like 'Hey sweetheart, you fell asleep on the ride home, c'mon now! Get packed, remember, Pepa and me are going to go see the sea lions and the sunset, remember?' Then she'll kiss me. Leaving me senseless and always wanting more.

Lately my daydreams have maneuverer themselves out of the whole 'oh-you-fell-asleep' scenario and have transferred into some kind of practical living delusion. At times she's mixing a drink for us, or she's vacuuming and motioning suggestively with her arms for me to start the laundry. And my favourite fantasy is when she is walking out of our bathroom with a only towel wrapped around her cream body and a smile on her angelic face.

I always lay on the left half of our new king sized bed, I can't bring myself to sleep on her side nor can I bother with pulling out the day bed. I miss her enough; I don't want to see any more changes in our apartment.

Every night I surround myself with articles of Silvia's clothing. Her scent still lingers on her clothes and our sheets and I get to pretend. I get to pretend she's still in my arms and I still have the luxury of running my fingers through her soft strawberry hued mane.

My train of thought always circulates back onto one thing.

If's.

Why did I have to choose such a remote place for our wedding?

If we had been closer to the city, then maybe she would have gotten the much needed medical attention. If we had brought our guns, then we could have fought our way out. If… If I hadn't fucking rushed Silvia and just let her finish her investigation.

The recording on her cellphone, if she had heard it.

If. If . if. IF.

My life is fucking hell. I want to run away, but I can't. I want to stay but the lack of Silvia's presence is a constant knife in my heart.

I can't function as it is. I refuse to change a single thing in our apartment. And I physically cannot let anything that belonged to my lover go.

My soul mate.

And tonight like every night since her body has been laid into the ground and the reality of it hits me.

I lie on my stomach and feel my tears drench our matching pillowcases. My sobs harsh and edgy compared to the emptiness of our apartment. I'm crying for a life no longer in my grasp. I'm crying for her, for me and for our family. I'm crying because I'm the one remaining. I should have been the one, I should've protected her.

My broken soul wishing and praying for just one 'If'.

If I had gotten shot at our wedding ceremony.

Then maybe, I would feel a little more alive than I feel now.


End file.
